


Myths... aren't, always

by ilyena_sylph



Category: The Fallen - Thomas E. Sniegoski
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-14
Updated: 2010-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 16:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/139321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Aaron and Vilma are out searching for more of the Fallen... some of the other trouble in the world finds Aaron instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Myths... aren't, always

**Author's Note:**

  * For [miss_bennie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_bennie/gifts).



Vilma Santiago paced in the small villa they were using in Athens -- she'd wanted to see Greece, and Aaron had indulged her -- chewing at one of her fingernails. It was no trouble for them to travel anywhere they wanted to, especially with her having gotten teleportation down so quickly, but they'd had to have somewhere to stay. Between what he had, what Aerie had pulled together over centuries, and what she had, that hadn't been any trouble, though. They were supposed to be here looking for any of the Gregori and the other Fallen that hadn't been at the battle with Verchiel. They'd found one or two, but beings that had been hiding for millennia were seriously hard to find when they didn't want to be found. With all of the Greek legends of heroes and demi-gods and powers, it had sounded like a good place to try to look for them. They'd leased a small place, outside of the city itself, and she was going to regret leaving it a little -- and yet, right now, she couldn't stand it's walls. Aaron had heard -- they both had -- rumors of something killing men up in the Thracian mountains, something that left nothing behind, but people were disappearing. Some of the old women had been telling old legends to each other and the smallest of the children around, that it sounded like the old stories of the manticore come back again, and Aaron's face had set tight.

They'd come back to the villa quickly, and Aaron had told her he had to go and see. She'd protested, not wanting him to leave her, not wanting him to go into more danger... but it was their job to deal with this kind of thing, now. If the legends were even right at all. It might be just some human... but neither one of them believed that. Not with that not a single body had been found. And she didn't know how to fight something like that. Not that Aaron did, either, but. He knew so much more about what he was doing, and had so many 'memories' of his father's fighting... it should be easy. She hoped it was going to be easy -- and all of a sudden there was a heavy, hot weight of fur against her legs, and Gabe's impossible to miss voice said, " _It doesn't help to worry. I know._ "

"Oh, like you **don't**?" she snorted at the Lab, even as she leaned down to scratch at Gabe's ears. "I can't help it. I hate being left behind."

Gabe's tail hit the floor repeatedly as he sat down in front of her, pushing into her hands. " _I hate it, too. He gets into trouble when he goes off alone. But he's always come back. It's going to be okay..._ "

"I hope you're right, buddy," Vilma said, dropping down beside him to lean into his furry chest and rubbing at his ears some more. "I really do."

Gabe rubbed against her jaw with his, making low whuffing noises that were meant to be comforting, she could tell. They were working, too. " _You give great ear-rubs. But you probably should sit down. This floor is hard._ "

"Gabe, are you a boy dog or a mother hen?" Vilma asked, just to make him ask questions, and she got up off her knees in a couple of moments and headed for her favorite of the chairs, hoping that feisty Labrador protests that he was **obviously** a boy dog and not any kind of a bird would be enough to distract her from worries she couldn't do anything about. But when Aaron got home, they would be having a **talk** about her learning more about how to fight. She wasn't just going to sit back and let him do all the fighting any more. Not with the prophecy mostly over. There were still angels to find and send home, and that was his -- all she could do with that was be there for him, support him when he needed it -- but this other stuff... she was **done** being just the girl at home.

And she was **never** going to be bait again.

***

Aaron leaned heavily on his sword's hilt, watching the body of the manticore burn in the the fire he'd summoned. He'd had more difficulty than he should have had with something as simple as calling fire, he knew. He wasn't Lorelai, with her gift for sorcery, but fire was so easy. Fire liked excuses to burn. It shouldn't have been any problem to call it down, but the power hadn't wanted to come. He felt wrong, light-headed and a little short of breath -- shorter than it should have been, even with as hard as the fight had been. Manticores, manticorii? Whatever. Apparently had human brains to go with the beastly body and wings. Not cool. This wasn't supposed to be hard. Just a simple 'go find the thing killing people' and get rid of it job, one of the things left for the Nephilim to do by the Powers millennia of focus only on them.

Despite how he felt, he couldn't leave until the fire was finished and he put it back out. It was no simple match-lit fire, it was the fire of the divine, and left alone it would burn forever, though not without consumption. Not the burning bush thing. He hadn't gotten his head around that yet, and he didn't figure he was ever going to have any need to, anyway. That was for bit blazing -- yeah, yeah, such a comedian, Corbet -- signs, and he didn't want those. The fewer people that knew he and his were on the planet, the better off they all were -- and wow, his thoughts were wandering all over. The point was, he couldn't teleport back to Vilma in Athens until the body was totally consumed. Unlike in Blithe, the locals of Pandrossos were unlikely to block away the presence of an obviously supernatural corpse. Far more likely to call for media, and the outcry that might bring was one none of them could afford.

He still couldn't breathe right, he realized, watching as the bones started to burn, and his calf was numb, sore... He looked down, and the tail end of a barbed spine shone at him, gold and gleaming like the fur of the manticore had been before he killed it. He'd thought he dodged all of the spines, when the manticore was flinging them. It hadn't had that many, how... and how hadn't he noticed?

It didn't matter how one had gotten through.

What mattered was it had. And that, apparently, manticore spines were poison.

At least, that's what he thought the numbness was. And the shortness of breath. And the lightheaded.

Damn.

No wonder his head was fuzzy. He reached for his ability to heal, calling it to him... then realized he was going to have to get the spine out before he could heal it. Otherwise there'd just be more poison. Not like the bites and cuts he'd patched up already.

That was going to be fun. He'd seen the ones it had missed with, they had nasty barbs on the tips. Wasn't there something he'd learned about getting arrows out? Something... Oh. You pushed them through. That was going to hurt. A lot. Maybe he shouldn't do that until he was back with Vilma.

Since if he passed out from the pain of pushing it through, the poison would just keep going. And then he'd die here, on this Greek hill, with his wings and his sword out. Time to get rid of the sword, then, he decided and vanished it back into... wherever they went. He couldn't get rid of the wings, though. Needed those out to get back. So he couldn't pass out. Or they'd know angels -- half-angels, anyway -- were real. Wouldn't **that** suck? To have gotten through everything with Verchiel and Leviathan and the Malakim and the battle at Aerie... and die because of a man-hunting supernatural critter that was supposed to be just a myth, and a myth that went extinct a long time ago, at that? Yeah. That would totally suck. And besides. If he died, nothing was ever going to get his dad back to heaven. He was **really** not okay with that.

It'd be one thing if Lucifer was still all on the hating-people, trying to mess them up, dealer of all suffering, thing. Then he'd be totally cool with cashing out before his dad figured out what he had to do to get home. But he wasn't. He hadn't been like that in a long, long time. All he wanted was to say how sorry he was, now. And have it be listened to. And Aaron _knew_ , in that angel-knowing kind of way that still freaked him out, that he was the **only** chance his dad was going to get.

Which was totally unfair. Dad had been asking for forgiveness, trying to atone, for millennia. Keeping all of Hell locked inside his chest where it had him every minute, and never let go. He couldn't imagine anything worse than that. The touch he'd felt, trying to rescue him, was more than enough. Wasn't the whole fucking point supposed to be that God was good, and forgave, as long as you were sincere? He wasn't really much for religion, but he was pretty sure he remembered **that** much.

Oh, hey. There weren't any more bones. The fire was lapping at nothing, and hissing irritably to itself.

 _Go out_ , he told it in the angelic language, and it flared up to several times his height before dropping to nothing but cold cinders.

Good. That was good. Now he could go home.

... _If_ he could focus long enough to get there. Messing up a teleport was a **bad** idea.

He took slow breaths, deep as he could make his lungs take with how they felt, and focused all of his will on the outskirts of Athens, on getting back to his bed and his girl and his dog safely. All he wanted was to be home.

The world folded around him, just like his wings --

\-- And he hit the floor of their apartment way harder than he'd intended. He'd meant to come out at ground level, like normal, so he'd had his wings folded. Instead, he came out about three feet up (sloppy visualization, worst jump he'd made in a long time) and fell straight down, hitting the floor with a barely-suppressed shriek as all of the rest of the cuts -- and the bite, mustn't forget the shark-toothed bite to his forearm that he'd only had time to half-heal -- protested being jarred. The pain and disorientation dropped him to flat on the floor, and he folded his wings tight to his back to keep them out of the way.

Across the room, Vilma came straight up out of her chair, he saw from the corner of one eye, and her quick, light steps on the floorboards echoed ridiculously loudly in his ear against the floor. "Aaron?! What happened?!"

He sucked in a breath, coughing on it this time, numbness spreading up to his knee, and looked up at her. "Tell you... once the thing in my calf... is out, k? I think it's poison... feel so weird, love."

"Why didn't you go to Lorelai? Never mind, too late now. What do I do?" Vilma asked.

He noticed, with part of the back of his mind, that her voice didn't shake, and he was so proud of her. This hadn't been supposed to be anything serious. And he looked like he'd been a chew-toy for a lion. Well, he kind of had. Except it had wings, and a spiked tail, and a human brain. He hadn't even thought of Lorelai. Not since before the fight was over. He'd just wanted to go home. But it was true. He'd have gone to Lorelai if he knew where she was, the sorceress of their kind would have helped him, but she was travelling, just like they were, enjoying the freedom of Verchiel being gone, and she hadn't sent him a picture of her newest hotel yet. He really needed to remember to email her and get one. It wasn't good for them not to be able to get to each other.

"...oh. Damn. Should have. Not sure where she is, love. I... grab something heavy. Like, a book. Or a plate... Coaster, maybe. Something we can push with that won't -- won't let that thing touch you. I don't want you.. to get cut. Got to push the spine through. And something to wrap it in. Oven mitt?"

"What? Why? _Mother of God, Aaron, I can't do that..._ "

He always knew she was upset when she slipped into Portuguese with him.

"Yes you can. I can't heal with the poison still in there, Vilma. You've got to help me, baby."

"You're bleeding **everywhere** , can't you at least --"

"Scared to, Vilma, at least, before we get -- get that out," he said, shaking his head. "Can't feel my... knee anymore, baby, hurry." He pushed up onto his elbows as he heard her steps go the other way, trying to get to where he could sit up, twisting around to look at the gold gleaming in his calf once he had. Or, well, he tried to. What actually happened was he face-planted into fur, just as " _I got you, Aaron, I got you _" was woofed into his ear.__

"Oh. Hey, buddy. Nice... nice catch, Gabe."

" _Wasn't hard. I have a lot of back. And not very far to go. You smell wrong._ "

"I... bet. Sorry, pally. Poison."

He heard Vilma's steps coming back and tried to lift his head again, shifting carefully while he leaned on Gabe with both hands. He finally remembered to pull his wings back under his skin, and then it was easier. Who knew the things were heavy? "Gabe, can you get behind me, bud? Hold me up?"

" _Wouldn't the bed be better?"_

"...my dog's smarter than I am. Who knew? Okay, Gabe. Pull me over."

" _You got it, boss_." Dry teeth settled in his collar and Gabe dragged him backward as far as he could, enough that he could just lean back against the bed.

Vilma had a heavy, rubber-palmed oven mitt and a solid glass coaster, one in either hand, when she came back. That was good, glass wouldn't let anything through. "That... that looks good. Okay, give me the coaster, I'm going to -- to shove on this thing until it goes through. Don't mind me if I scream. Probably gonna hurt a lot. once the end's through. Grab... grab it behind the barbs, and pull. Pull straight. **Don't** get cut."

" _I... Aaron, you are so lucky I love you or I would be screaming right now. I... okay. I can do this. I... I can do this. No worse than when my cousin flipped his bike and broke his arm, there was bone showing then, there's no bone, I can do this..._ "

"I know you can," he agreed. He took the coaster, shifted his weight, and used the cork back of the coaster to catch the end and shove. Pain whited out his world -- not the worst he'd had, that was still the fight with Malak, the arrow in his knee and the knife in his side and the wrench of his wings, but it was close. He thought that was bad. then Vilma pulled, the end of the thing dragged through his muscle, and the scream ripped out of his throat despite biting into his lip.

" _I'm sorry, I'm sorry --_ "

"Vilma, love. It's okay. It's okay, I promise. You... you did good. Ow. No more... no more arrows. Oh, hell, it's up into about mid-thigh... and I really can't breathe. Good thing you're an angel, baby..."

" _Aaron, I can't, I don't know how..._ "

Aaron opened his eyes, smiling at her as much as he could. "Yeah, you can. I know you can. I didn't ... didn't know what I was doing when I fixed Gabe, either. But... you can do this, Vilma. I sure hope so, anyway, because we -- we don't have time. To call Dad. Not sure he. can teleport anymore, either. I..."

" _Stop talking, stop talking, I can hear it hurting you **stop talking**. Except to tell me what I have to do. What do I do?_ "

Now her voice was shaking, her Portuguese tight with fear, and he hated that. "Just... want me better. Want me better, and... accept. What comes to you. It's scary. It's everything. But... it's you. Just make it yours."

Gabe whined, pushing under his hand again, and even his angelic ears didn't pick up words in the sound. Just fear and unease. He got that.

If Vilma couldn't get her healing power to work, this was going to be bad, because he didn't think he could make his own work with his head spinning like this. He looked up at her, watching her face, as she tightened her lips and stretched her hands out around his leg.

" _What if I do something wrong, what if I change you somehow, Aaron, I..._ "

"Baby," Aaron said, shaking his head, vision sparkling funny, "you'll do just fine. I trust you. You can do this."

"If I do this wrong," Vilma said, startling him with the English, "It's your own damn fault."

That struck him as funny and he started to laugh, his shoulders shaking, breath stopping in his throat from the laughs, and he fought for the breath, eyes closing.

He felt the stirring in the air, the unseen, unheard flare up of angelic power, and he said, "That's it. You can do this, baby. I know you can. You're getting it." He heard the sound of her wings coming out, the flare of heat from them, moments later, and he grinned up at her, making his eyes open to see the radiant beauty of his girlfriend with her wings out and power flaring around her. "You're beautiful. And you can do this."

She didn't answer him, not really, but he heard her praying softly, the Ave Maria -- and power slammed through him, making him arch against the floor and the bed, hand tightening in Gabe's fur...

He slumped back when it let go, barely conscious... but he could breathe, and feel everything, and his head was clear.

"You did it, baby," he said, smiling up at her wider -- and she pounced on him, kissing him hard, her hands sliding into his hair to cling as her wings wrapped down as close as they could with the bed in the way. He slid his hands up, wrapping them just under her wings, and held on, kissing her back just as much, relieved, suddenly, just to be alive. That was closer than he liked -- nothing had been that close since Leviathan.

He just had no luck with the big-time monsters. Angels, sure, no problem... but the monsters just weren't his thing, apparently.

At least this one hadn't tried to play head-games on him, mess with his mind and try to drug him with what he'd thought was his perfect future...

He hadn't had a clue what perfect was. This, with her, with Gabe, this was perfect.

" _Are you all right, now?_ " Gabe whined, pushing against his hand again. " _You scared me..._ "

"Sorry, pally," Aaron said, reaching to ruffle his fur and hold him close, Vilma tucking up against their sides, her white wings spread around them. "He scared me, too, Gabe," she said -- and promptly lifted one hand to punch him in the shoulder. "And he's **not** going to do it again, does he hear me?"

"Vilma... I can't not --"

"I know that. I meant you're not leaving me **behind** again," she said, her voice sharp with stress and worry. "I can heal now, so I can go with you."

"I... Vilma, are... some of these things are pretty nas --"

"Yes I know, I've seen you come home! Do you think I like just **waiting** here?! I'm **tired** of waiting for you to come home, I'm tired of being **helpless** , I'm--"

She was starting to cry. He never knew what to do when she was crying except just hold her, and he reached up, pulling her into his arms, careful of her wings. "Shhh... shhh, love, shh... Okay, okay... You're right. You're right, I'm sorry, I'll take you with me, I'm sorry..."

He couldn't believe he'd upset her like that, that he'd made her feel helpless again -- he knew how much that scared her, hurt her. After everything Verchiel had done to her, how could he make her feel helpless? "I'm sorry, baby? I just... I don't want you to have to fight. I..."

"I can't be on the sidelines anymore, Aaron. I can't... I **hate** it. I can't just wait. I had to more than long enough!"

"I know, I know... I'm sorry. I promise. I'll take you with me -- but you're going to have to learn how to fi--" a neck-popping, bone-jarring yawn cut him off.

"To fight. I was already planning on telling you that."

He looked up at her, shocked, and her dark eyes and her expressive mouth were set in identical stubborn lines. He hadn't thought she'd want to learn to fight, after everything, but... he had to admit, the backup would be nice. And he didn't want to be one of those guys that was a jerk about their girl being awesome. He knew she could be awesome. He just didn't want her to be hurt. Or scared. ...which was the problem. He'd scared her anyway. So. That wasn't working. Time to try something else. "I... okay. Ok--"

"Healing made you tired?" Vilma asked, cocking her head at him with a grin -- probably at how ridiculous he looked trying to dislocate his jaw yawning, and she finally let her wings slide back under her skin. "Okay. It... I think it got me, too..."

He laughed as she yawned too, and nodded. "Yeah. Tired. Come on, love. Let's go to bed. We can talk about teaching you to fight later, okay?"

"Okay," she murmured, pushing to her feet to help him up, and it wasn't long at all before they were both curled up in the bed, wrapped around each other close.

A low woof of _can I come up?_ made them both laugh, and Vilma patted at the sheet over them. "Sure, Gabe. Come on."

Warm, furry weight turned circles against their feet, and Gabe made a soft, happy yip as he settled into place. Aaron was still listening to him saying _yay!_ when sleep took over and dragged him under.

\--Fin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic follows the Sniegowski convention of language that is understood via angelic gift being written in italics.
> 
> My apologies to anyone whose way of interacting with stories causes that convention to be in any way obnoxious.


End file.
